


Old Friends

by grey853



Category: Wilby Wonderful (2004)
Genre: Buddy and Duck friendship, Gen, Implied Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buddy and Duck talk about relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Friends

"How's he doing?"

Duck took his time to answer, checking out the horizon, keeping clear of those intense blue eyes aimed in his direction. That same stare haunted him all through high school, saw every embarrassing blush and revealing expression. Hell, Buddy French probably realized that Duck was gay before Duck did, or at least before he admitted it to himself. "He's better."

"That's good."

Duck took another deep drag off his cigarette and continued to lean back against his truck, one arm draped across his middle. The thick morning mist lifted up off the ocean as he fought down the small surge of anger. "Carol?"

"She's sorry."

"Yeah, well, she saved his life. That's more than some people would've done."

"Some people are assholes."

"True." Duck stopped hiding and met Buddy's gaze. "I was pissed. Still am."

"I know."

"He's a better person than I am."

"I doubt that."

"Don't."

"Look, I won't make excuses for her. What she did was wrong. She knows that."

"She stuffed him under a staircase, Buddy."

"I know."

Duck cleared his throat and then lit a new cigarette, lighting another for Buddy at the same time. He flashed on all those times in high school, standing together behind the school gym, sneaking a smoke between classes. It was a lifetime ago and yet he remembered it clearly, the sharp slap of memory about youth and longing and absolute frustration vivid and real in his gut. He never got anywhere with Buddy, at least not in reality. Fantasy had been a different story. Buddy had no idea how many times Duck had used his image and his rich, sweaty scent to find release in the dark. Or maybe he did know and just didn't say anything. Maybe he knew about what Duck did in private and was flattered, liked the idea of being somebody's imaginary lover. It was hard to tell with Buddy sometimes.

After a couple of puffs to clear his head, Duck relaxed. "Dan told me you came to the hospital. You wanted to know if he wanted to press charges. That must've been hard."

Buddy studied him a few extra beats. "She panicked, but she knew what she was doing was wrong, morally and legally. If he'd died..."

"Like Dan said, if it weren't for her, he'd be dead."

"But-"

"No buts. He's right. She cut him down before it was too late. That's all that matters."

"You said you were pissed."

"I'm more grateful than anything."

Buddy let out a deep breath and then leaned back against the truck, standing side-by-side with Duck. "You two going to stay together?"

"You and Carol going to stay together?"

"I don't know."

Duck heard the insecurity and regret. He turned his head and studied the profile of his childhood friend. "Because of this?"

"No, at least not completely. Carol and I have had problems for a while." Buddy paused before he added, "Nobody ever told me that marriage was so fucking hard, Duck. I thought it'd be easier after Mom died."

"Why?"

Buddy shrugged. "They never liked one another. Mom always made Carol feel not quite good enough, like an outsider."

"The whole not an Islander thing, huh?"

"That was part of it, yeah. Anyway, Mom was sick for a long time and that made it worse for a while, but then when she died, I thought Carol would be okay with living here, being part of this world."

"But she's not?"

"She's trying, but it's not just that. It's me, too. I'm not sure what I want anymore, either."

"Oh, yeah? Mid-life crisis?"

Rubbing a nervous thumb over his right eye, Buddy frowned, his lips tight. "I'm getting old, Duck, too old to worry that I've made all the wrong choices. Sometimes it feels like I got stuck with the wrong life." Duck snorted and Buddy stared at him, suddenly defensive. "What?"

"Remember when we were kids how you said that if you ever got off Wilby, you'd never come back?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"You came back. It's the life you picked. You love it here."

Buddy only took a moment to nod. "Yeah, I do." It took several more deep breaths before Buddy confided, "She's talking about moving back to the mainland, at least for a while."

"Then you have to let her go. You can't make her stay."

"I know that."

"You want her to leave?"

"No."

"Then tell her."

Buddy dropped his cigarette and then crossed his arms. "What about Dan? You think he'll stay?"

"For now, yeah."

"And for later?"

"There are never guarantees for later."

"But things are good between you two right now?"

Duck met Buddy's eyes, saw the genuine concern there, and smiled. "Yeah, things are pretty good, better than I'd hoped."

"That's good. I'm glad."

"Thanks." On impulse, Duck reached out and squeezed Buddy's shoulder, something he'd done so many times in high school, times when Buddy had told him about one girl drama after another. He hadn't done it since graduation years ago. He'd missed it, the touch, the contact with an old friend. "I hope it works out with you and Carol."

"Thanks. Same to you."

Duck released him and then stood straighter. "Well, it's getting late. I've got a paint job to finish."

Buddy stepped away from the truck. "Tell Dan I said hi."

"I will. Tell Carol the same."

"Duck?"

"Yeah?"

"We should get together more often, have coffee or something, talk."

"Talk to Carol, Buddy. She's the one who needs to hear it."

Buddy stared a moment longer and then nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "You're right. That still doesn't mean we can't talk, too."

"Sure."

"Later then." Buddy waved as he walked off, heading into the station.

Duck watched, knowing full well that they wouldn't have morning chats too often, just every now and again, when it suited Buddy. Things hadn't changed that much between them. Still, it made him stand a little taller knowing that Buddy still needed a familiar ear from time to time.

Climbing behind the wheel of the truck, Duck started the engine, smiling to himself. He wanted to go home and crawl back under the covers with Dan, but instead he went to work, hoping that Dan didn't change his mind and leave. He had to have faith that Dan trusted him enough, cared about himself enough, to stay and work it out. Buddy was a friend, but Dan, Dan was the real deal, a guy who might make staying on Wilby worth the effort of braving the outside world every morning, sticking it out until it was time to come home to the man he loved, someone who loved him back for a change.

The End


End file.
